


take a gander at the two of us

by Dubiousculturalartifact (222Ravens)



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe- The Soulmate Goose of Enforcement, Crack, Fluff, Humour, M/M, T'hy'la, except not really soulmates, more... alien psychic stuff?, with feelings by accident
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 03:06:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17051888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/222Ravens/pseuds/Dubiousculturalartifact
Summary: "anonymous  asked:ok so I just learnt about this wonderful thing called "the soulmate goose of enforcement" aka a “soulmate au where one person finds a goose who leads them to the other person. the difficulty comes in not being mauled by a goose” and honestly I think we really need a spirk version of this trope.."spockfallsinlove  answered:oh my god that sounds ADORABLE someone write this stat"





	take a gander at the two of us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [quiettewandering](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiettewandering/gifts), [gainsbees](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gainsbees/gifts).



> yeah, i dont even know
> 
> original post:  
> https://spockfallsinlove.tumblr.com/post/181214656382/ok-so-i-just-learnt-about-this-wonderful-thing

There was a goose following him.

 

Okay, possibly not _technically_ a goose, given that it was an alien species that evolved in an entirely different biome and genetic context to Earth. He honestly wasn’t big on xenobiology(except for the fun parts, _if you knew what he meant_ ).

 

But just like that weird critter from Alfa 177 was for all intents and purposes a really fuzzy dog with a unicorn horn? The creature currently following Captain James T. Kirk, of the USS Enterprise, was a goose.

 

A purple goose, with speckled green feet, but a goose nonetheless. Jim had grown up on a farm. He knew geese. He knew geese were stubborn, pointy-mouthed bastards, distractingly cute but with enough stubbornness to make an enemy of anyone with sense. (He also knew that same set of descriptors could, and probably had, been applied to himself, but he digressed.)

 

It was supposed to be a fairly straightforward Away mission. They _always_ were supposed to be fairly straightforward away missions, that then got derailed by angry space gods, vengeful psychics, sketchy plants, hallucinatory figures from history, or… Something else.

 

He’d really been hoping this time would be different. He’d stood there in the transporter room, joking with Chekov about how something always went weird when he went on an away mission, until Spock had moved precisely three entire facial muscles, and said “That is why I am accompanying you, in order to keep you safe, in the surefire event of a calamity.”

 

Jim had taken that as both an insult, and a personal challenge, and made a bet with Chekov on the spot, over a bottle of whiskey, that everything would happen completely normally on the away mission.

 

Enter goose, stage left.

 

He’d gone for a walk, having gotten bored of the science crew doing readings in preparation for the new mining initiative they were working on with the Sentuans, a new potential entry for Federation status. Personally he thought the process was being a bit expedited, given how little they _really_ knew about the civilization, but Vulcan’s loss meant a lot of decisions being made on-the-fly, these past few years.

 

It’s why he was out here to begin with. With the ship he had, and the crew, and the… So maybe he couldn’t complain, much.

 

Except for the goose.

 

The goose which had waddled up maybe ten minutes after he’d cleared the hilltop and was out of sight of the rest of the crew, and promptly attempted to bite him on the ass.

 

He’d darted out of the way, making a noise that was definitiely a dignified expression of disapproval, and not, say, an embarrassed yelp.

 

“What the hell, bird!” He’d said, okay, perhaps a little inelegantly, and looked around for a nest, babies, a watering hole he was blocking, or any possible reason for having attracted its ire.

 

You know, for science and stuff. Behavioural data. Spock would be proud of him.

 

The goose spent his moment of distraction, attacking his ankle. “Ha! Wearing boots. Eat _that_.” He’d replied to it, knowing from unfortunate and unmentionable experience, how unpleasant it maybe was to bite at the thick, synthetic material of Starfleet issued boots. Long story, really.

 

It squawked balefully at him.

 

“Shoo!” He said. It waddled closer.

 

Jim tried walking away in the distance opposite their mining site, to keep it away from the crew members, and to avoid seeing Spock’s face, when Spock learned that Jim had been out-witted by a _goose_.

 

It followed.

 

He tried _running_ away. It ran faster, then decided to aim higher, and bite his knee, instead.

 

He climbed a tree, and then remembered that pesky part about alien-bird-analogues having wings, and fell out of the tree, when it joined him.

 

_RIP, another standard issue uniform shirt._

 

It was sometime after this point he realized that A. It was getting dark, & B. The goose was leading him in slow circles, that meant he was a lot closer to the site as he’d thought, and the goose wasn’t giving up.

 

Spock hadn’t warned him about any poisonous or dangerous animals in the vicinity, and he _always_ did that. Apart from the ankle biting, and the weird beady eyes, the goose was… mostly harmless, really.

 

So, much as he hated to admit defeat at the hands of a bird, Jim found himself walking back into the site, trailing the damn purple goose. He’s just lucky Uhura isn’t on this mission, given that she’s off on her shore-leave/date with Christine, or he’d _really_ never live it down.

 

The rest of the away team had set up tents along the perimeter, and were in them already, the long rotation of the planet meaning it was well past time for sleep, despite the lingering sunset.

 

Spock is still up, silhouetted against the purple hues of the fading sun. If Jim wasn’t so distracted by the bird, he probably wouldn’t have allowed himself this thought, because he’s honestly pretty well practiced at the repression thing, by now.

 

As it was, he looked at Spock and thought, _beautiful._

 

“Captain.” Spock says, raising a single, fancy eyebrow at the ripped shirt, and goose-shadow. “I was concerned when you had not returned sooner, I was preparing to leave in search of you.”

 

Jim doesn’t let himself read into that. It’s sensible. Professional, even, to ensure the safety of one’s captain. “Sorry about that. Ran into a bit of a… well, a wild goose chase, I guess you could call it.

 

“I believe it to be a Sentuan Hybrite, one of the local analogues to an ornithoid.” Spock says, still looking at the patch of Jim’s chest, exposed by the rip in his shirt, and no doubt tallying up replicator budgets. “I will run a scan.”

 

Spock picks up the tricorder, just as the goose comes barreling towards him, specifically. To stop in front of Spock, attempt the butt-then-ankle-biting ritual all anew, and point its head furiously back and forth between the two of them.

 

Spock dodges the attempts, and attempts to runs the scan. The goose runs back to Jim, and tries to herd him forward. He steps away, then forward again, as the goose runs back to Spock, and attempts the same. Spock attempts the scan again, and appears to be successful.

 

“Well, uh…. This is weird.” Jim says, standing _very_ close to Spock after a couple minutes of this. Spock hadn’t actually moved, the bastard.

 

They’re quite close together. “It kept following me. Trying to lead me back here, I think.”

 

“Did you antagonize the Hybrite, in any way?” Spock asks, quietly.

 

Jim tries to be professional, as he scripts his reply, but Spock is _right there_ , and it’s honestly distracting.

 

“I didn’t, I just… Maybe it’s a young one? Could it have… I dunno, imprinted, or something?”

 

There’s a soft noise from the left of them.

 

“Oh!” The Sentuan guide says, coming out of the tent to goggle at the sight, xir pink ears wiggling fiercely.

 

Jim is expecting laughter, maybe, or ‘what are you doing with a rare bird, that’s an ecological violation’ or…

 

“What an incredible sight to behold! You are partners then!”

 

Not that.

 

“In a sense.” Spock says, and “No?” Jim says, taking a step backward and nearly tripping over the goose.

 

The goose is unimpressed.

 

“The Hybrite. Did you think us a civilization that frowns upon inter-species relations? We are very accepting of such matters.”

 

“Please explain.” Spock says, stiffly.

 

“The Hybrites are very auspicious in our culture. It is said that if two being as perfectly aligned to compliment one another, but have been kept apart, the Hybrite will lead the one who is…”

 

The universal translator glitches for a second, leading to an awkward pauses on all parties involved, as he tries desperately to avoid eye-contact with Spock, and hopes desperately for the next word not to be the cause of the end of a really good friendship, on the word of a goose.

 

“… The one who is _pining_ , to that of whom they seek, and who seeks them in return.”

Xe finishes.

 

“ _Pining_.” Jim parrots, flatly, glaring down at the fowl betrayer.

 

It glares back.

 

Spock is silent.

 

“It must have been the walk. You were gone too long!” The Sentuan (Bobun? Jim thinks xir name is Bobun) says brightly. “I’ll leave you two alone. Blessing upon you both!”

 

Xe leaves, and leaves them alone, in painful, awkward silence.

 

With a goose.

 

Of all the ways he’d pictured Spock finding out about his embarrassing, years-long pining situation, it was… definitely not this. He’s come up with a _lot_ of scenarios, from horrifying, to deadly, to wonderful and happily-ever-after. None of them had anticipated an alien goose. He’s pretty sure even his imagination isn’t that sadistic.

 

It’s just… confirmation bias, anyway. Sure, he knows that _his_ pining feelings are real. But that doesn’t mean the goose picked up on them, nor does it mean that Spock has any of his own.

 

Spock isn’t going to fall for it, he can still save this conversation with plausible deniability. Steer this in a direction that is not doom-worthy, one where his best friend doesn’t have to let him down gently

 

“Weird cultural superstition, right?”

 

“While the specific method of delivery is perhaps an unusual one, the notion of two individuals being… Compatible, in such a way, is one that persists across many cultures. Humans, for instance, have the concept of ‘soul-mates’. In old Vulcan…” Spock shuts up, very abruptly. “I say this as mere hypothetical examples, of course.”

 

“Yeah, exactly!” Jim says, siezing onto that. I mean, it’s not like the goose could _tell_ , right? You’re just the only person who was nearby when, I mean… It’s not like it’s a psychic duck!”

 

The goose honks again, and then starts glowing with bioluminescence. It’s a sort of greenish light.

 

Oh, for fucksakes.

 

Kirk abruptly remembers the scan that Spock had done on the goose, and the fact that Spock is very close to him, hasn’t moved away at all, and isn’t saying anything.

 

“Your scan. The… goose isn’t psy-null, is it?”

 

Spock’s shoulders shifted approximately a single millimetre downward. “To the best of my knowledge, as garnered by the scans, the goose does possess rudimentary abilities, that could conceivably result in an ability to discern such… compatibilities. What is less clear is the evolutionary advantage of such behaviour, but perhaps it could be the result of some form of early symbiotic relationship with the Sentuans, that result in a mutual compatibility and an innate…”

 

 _Oh_.

 

The goose is, indeed, a psychic goose. A traitorous psychic love goose, and… Is Spock _info-dumping?_

 

 _Spock is totally info-dumping_. Oh my god, Spock is nervous. Spock doesn’t get nervous. There would have to be something huge for Spock to be…

 

The goose honks, and bashes its head against his boot, again. Relatable.

 

“Do you… Have any other compelling corroborative evidence to support the theory that we are not ‘emotionally and mentally compatible’, then?” Jim says very, very carefully.

 

“In truth, Jim… If I have collected any evidence during our acquaintance, most of the evidence that we are not, would be to the contrary.”

 

It takes a second for him to parse it. “Spock… Did you just use a double-negative?”

 

A hesitation, but a brief one this time, and with too much warmth in those eyes, for him to have any remaining doubt. “You are, as I believe the parlance says, a ‘bad influence’ on me. But, perhaps, a welcome one.”

 

Well, damn. “This… I… I’m inclined to agree with both assessments. ”

 

“And the Sentuan Hybrite’s?” Spock asks, and reaches out a tentative hand, fingers out.

 

“And the goose’s.”

 

Jim reaches his own hand out, and touches Spock.

 

 

He’s not big on fate, or destiny, and neither is Spock. They both believe in making their own choices, so if they are choosing to act on this, here and now? Then if there’s an inevitability to this, it is one that is all of their own making.

 

In the end, It’s a simple gesture, a simple feeling, but one he’s wanted for so damn long, and never let himself think he’d get, and maybe knew he would, all along.

 

Everything else falls away. The purple-green twilight of the alien world, the goddamn goose, all of his fears, inadequacies, and doubts. Every near death moment the two of them had faced, together and apart. Every solitary and shared pain, every missed opportunity and unspoken confession.

 

Just them, in this moment and every moment yet to come, and the simple, undeniable surety that they _fit_ together.

 

 

 

——

 

He’s pretty sure this counts as an eventful away mission, but he has never been happier to lose a bet.

 


End file.
